


Truth or Dare

by glanmire



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Canon fic, Chess, First Class, Gen, Mansion Fic, Spin the Bottle, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 16:46:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1751609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glanmire/pseuds/glanmire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mansion!fic, First Class. While the children play Truth or Dare - poor Hank- Erik realises some truths about himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth or Dare

He comes looking for Charles after twenty minutes. Erik does not like being left waiting.  Chess is a ritual that they seldom deviate from; the holocaust-survivor and the lonely lost boy do not have much common ground, and Erik would like to think they cherish this, this one interest they share, the love for the game. 

 Charles is in fact being held hostage by Raven as it turns out. The children are sprawled out on the floor in relaxed poses in a loose circle around a plastic bottle. Charles looks highly uncomfortable, and a look of relief washes through his face when Erik enters the room.   
“There you are Erik!” Charles says, and Erik hears _Thank God,_ clear as day in his head. He smiles.   
“What’s going on here?” Erik asks.   
“We’re playing spin the bottle,” Raven explains, glancing up at him.   
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting Erik, but the children simply would not let me leave,” Charles says. An image fills Erik’s head then, of the destruction the children made at the CIA base. Charles’ voice in his head says, _remember what they did last time they were in this mood? I thought it best to keep an eye on them.  
_ Erik nods and takes a seat by the fire. Charles looks surprised. Erik hasn’t quite got the hang of sending his own thoughts to Charles, but he focuses very hard on the phrase, _I’m hardly going to go play chess by myself._

 “So,” he finds himself asking. He’s aware that the children are more comfortable with Charles than they are with him, and a silence has fallen since he entered the room, “What is involved with ‘spin the bottle’? I do hope we’re not expected to derive an evening’s entertainment from just observing a spinning bottle.”   
Charles grins at that, but it is Raven that explains. She does always seem to be the ringleader with this sort of behaviour.   
“Well normally, you’re meant to spin it, and then kiss whoever it ends up facing, but I vetoed that idea ‘cause I’m the only girl here and wow that would get weird fast.”  
Erik regards the bottle. It’s plastic, no hint of metal whatsoever. He will not be able to influence this game. He isn’t sure whether he likes that or not. 

 Raven continues, unaware of Erik’s musings, though Charles shots him a look that says he sympathises with Erik’s plight.   
“So we’re doing truth or dare instead, but with the added drama of asking who the bottle lands on. For example,” she says, and spins the bottle with flourish. All eyes fixate upon it -and Erik childishly thinks that it better not land on him- and he is strangely relieved to see it slowly crawl to a halt in front of Hank, who licks his lips nervously.   
“Hank,” Raven says gleefully, “Truth or dare?” 

_She’s going to ask him to kiss her_ , Charles sends to Erik, who nods again. He feels rather foolish at times, bobbing his head around to a voice only he can hear but no-one else seems to notice.   
_I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with watching that,_ Charles’ voice says. Erik agrees. All he wanted was a damned game of chess, not to watch Raven get with Hank. 

But Hank saves them all the embarrassment and chooses ‘truth’. _The coward’s choice_ , Charles’ voice says, _but appreciated under the circumstances nonetheless._ Erik will actually start smiling now if Charles keeps up this silent running commentary, and then they’ll all think he’s insane.   
_They already do_ , Charles insists, but his mental tone is playful. 

 “Hmmm,” Raven draws it out. “Have you ever kissed anyone?”   
Erik was expecting something more dramatic than that. Charles seems to agree. _Yes, it’s the go-to question, rather clichéd, but at least she included the possibility of other sexualities other than heterosexual._

Erik does not know how to feel about hearing someone’s voice in his head saying the word _sexuality,_ and Hank mumbles a feeble response about a summer vacation once. Erik has lost interest. He wonders would it be considered rude to leave, and then catches himself. What does he care about the opinions of children? Well, he wouldn’t want to seem stand-offish to Charles but that’s different- 

_Go,_ Charles’ voices urges him. _There was a reason I didn’t call you. I didn’t expect that you’d enjoy this. I’ll try get back as soon as I can._  
Erik nods again - he must stop that - and rises from his chair. “This was fascinating,” he says without much enthusiasm, “but I’m exhausted. Goodnight everyone.”   
He gets a few mumbled goodbyes in return, as half-hearted as his own. 

 

Erik walks back to the room where he and Charles play chess. He pours himself a glass of scotch while he waits.   
It’s only two or three minutes later, when he’s sitting there in the semi-darkness when it hits him. He has killed men. He is dangerous, and here he is, sitting and waiting for a man to come and play chess with him? He’s suddenly disgusted with himself for falling into this life, this cosy make-believe that they all were playing along with, that they could be safe here, that this was the sort of place that you could play games with friends in the evenings and sleep soundly at night. 

Erik has known a different life and he trusts his different life. His life up to this point has been passable, a series of events, some unremarkable, some painful. That night when he nearly drowned - the night that Charles saved him- he had been too torn-up about the prospect that he may die.   
But now? If Erik continued to live here, to play chess with Charles and encourage the students- well this is the kind of life a man would mourn. This is the sort of existence that would make a man afraid to die, that would make him grow soft and warm around the edges.   
Charles may be cut out for this life but he is a telepath- an empath, a pacifist at heart. He is soft. Erik works with metal, and he knows he is as brittle as iron, as cold as steel. He was not made for a life like this. 

 He stands, and leaves the chessboard and the glass of scotch, and he tells himself that tomorrow he will leave this place, leave it before it can change him. Because Erik is the tin man; heartless, unable to love, and he will not have that any other way. 

 

 


End file.
